AllFreeNovel
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Flashes of being overseas come back to claw at me.
I see Jay’s leg getting blown off. I see Dom nearly dying because of a standoff with a terrorist cell.
It’s awful and familiar, but what burns in my mind brighter than all of the rest is the kid.
The kid I killed.
Murderer. Killer. Soldier. It’s all the damn same. And you’re fucking useless. A damn alcoholic and a coward.
I snag a beer from the top shelf of my fridge. Cracking it open, I chug as much as I can before I get a brain freeze from the cold.
Warm beer is disgusting, but it is easier to chug down quickly.
I don’t go far from the kitchen. I know I’ll need another one of those beers soon enough.
So, I sit down at the table. It’s just me at the head, this singular bottle on the smooth wooden surface, and silence all around me.
Yeah, I don’t really enjoy the silence. But I know I won’t be able to sleep yet.
I eye the TV across the large open space in the living area. I could watch something for a while.
Could help, right? Distract me?
Getting up and grabbing the other beer before heading to the couch, I try that breathing thing again.
Turns out that just breathing doesn’t really help when you’re fucking spiraling.
How ’bout that, Mr. Big Shot Therapist?
I’m bouncing my knee like an anxious teenager on his first date when I turn on the television and just choose whatever comes up first.
Then I down the rest of my beer as the silly movie plays. It’s the latest flick from action central, and I realize too late that explosions probably weren’t a great idea.
I’m flinching every damn time, so I change to something else. A comedy.
It’s all dick and fart jokes. Just what I need, I think.
But I’m too deep.
Now, I’m just furious with them. The characters go about enjoying their lives and getting into fucking nonsense.
They don’t deserve any of it.
You don’t either, you piece of shit. You don’t deserve her.
My eyes flick to the hall, knowing Clara is sleeping soundly in the bedroom.
“Shit, I can’t. I’m done.”
Standing up, I go to the bar, holding the other beer. It’s not hard to chug it down, and then I pour myself a few fingers of the whiskey.
The buzz picks up, but I don’t trust it. I need more than this if I’m going to get any sleep.
Taking the bottle back to the couch, I take several pulls on it over the course of the movie and wind up passing out on the couch.
I wake up a few hours later in a cold sweat, visions of violence dancing in my head instead of the preferred sugar plums or some shit.
“A child. I see him. I see the kid. He’s right here.”
